The Peace Treaty
by gloriousanon
Summary: Six months after the attack on New York, Asgard comes to Earth with an unusual offer regarding a peace treaty. The treaty itself is much more than an alliance between worlds, and involves the repentance of a certain Norse god. Rating for language, eventual goodies, and possible violence. Involves an OC.
1. Chapter 1

**The Peace Treaty.  
**

Six months after the attack on New York, Asgard comes to Earth with an unusual offer regarding a peace treaty. The treaty itself is much more than an alliance between worlds, and involves the repentance of a certain Norse god. Rating for language, eventual goodies, and possible violence. Involves an OC.

Please, do review. :)

* * *

For some ungodly reason, Tony is still required to attend boring board meetings. He can't fathom why this is - _Pepper_ is running the company. _Pepper_ is better at these things. As far as Tony is concerned, his beautiful, talented, powerful girlfriend is the perfect face of the company, and therefore any matters should really just go to her. It has nothing to do with the fact that he has an attention span of a five-year-old child, or that he desperately wants a drink instead. Don't they drink like fish on _Mad Men_?

Whatever.

Pepper jabs an unkind elbow into Tony's ribs to jostle him awake. Tony whines and straightens up in his seat, tilting his body toward hers as if conspiring. "You know, I really don't _have to be here_... I have you, and the assistant girl. You know how I feel about these things." Pepper sends him a look that cements him to his seat, and he backs off. She flashes a gorgeous smile to the various men and women around the table apologetically.

After the meeting, Pepper marches from the room with Tony scrambling to keep up. "You know, for being the shorter partner, your legs seem about twice as long as mine," he surmises. It's not hard to stare at her long, silky gams. He imagines them hooked over his shoulders when she interrupts his fantasy with a snort. "Shorter partner? Tony, _please_."

"What are you saying? Are you saying I'm _short_?"

"The great Tony Stark, feeling a little self conscious?" The playful gleam in her eye makes him want to smile, but instead he feigns hurt.

"Feeling a little _short-changed_, rather. Where the hell is the assistant girl?"

Pepper sighs and shuffles some papers in her hand as they walk. Tony could never figure out how to not drop everything doing that. "She's working with Jane and Darcy at the moment. And her name is Emily. For the _millionth_ time."

"Right. Emily. Y'know, I really do like 'assistant girl' better. Nicer ring to it, makes me feel powerful -"

"Tony? Tony, I'm usually glad to listen to you ramble about something or another, but we're due for a conference with Director Fury. Rather, _you_ are, and Emily."

"Assistant girl."

"You have five minutes to be there, Tony." Pepper's voice is terse, and Tony decides for once to swallow back the smart responses leaping to his tongue. A pissed off Pepper isn't something he likes to deal with. Pissed off Pepper meant that he was in trouble, and there was nothing more tempting than mouthing off when he was in trouble. Tony Stark didn't do _backed into a corner_ very well, and Pepper ran him right into the fucking wall when she was pissed. It was detrimental to everyone's good mood.

* * *

"Where the hell is assistant girl? Jesus," Tony grumbles. Nervous energy runs through each inhabitant of the conference room - except, of course, Fury and his pet spies. Tony wonders momentarily if they already know what's up, and concludes that they do. After all, they can't help it. Information seeks _them_, it's in their blood to know. He considers badgering them for precious info, but before he can act on the impulse, his assistant entered brandishing two trays of coffees. "I'm sorry," she sighs, arranging cups around the table. "Line at Starbucks was killer."

"You didn't have to go there... we have a coffee place right here in the tower." Steve sounds thoroughly confused.

"Yeah... I know," she grumbles, glaring pointedly at Tony.

He raises his eyebrows as he receives his beverage. "You know how I feel about that crap, assistant girl, 'kay? So, thank you. And while we're on the subject, I think you're a real doll for doing it - I really do - but, getting _everyone_ a coffee?" There are exasperated sighs around the table, and Tony shoots everyone a patronizing look. "_What?_"

"Jesus, Stark, we asked her to. Stop being such an ass," Natasha snaps. After a quick sip, she adds, "And her name is Emily."

"I knew that," he mumbles.

Tony observes Emily pass along the remaining coffees before taking her seat beside him. He leans far enough back in his seat that it rests precariously on its two hind legs. Her expression is blank, and also somehow... _not_. There's a hint of irritation, for sure, but also exhaustion. She runs her fingers through boy-short auburn hair and Tony can see the knots of tension in her shoulders trying to relax. He nudges her arm with his elbow and the look she gives him reminds him of a startled animal, waiting to see if it needs to attack.

"Hey, Little Red... good job. I mean - thank you."

She smiles a little and her expression softens. "Thanks, boss," she murmurs.

He wonders about the last time she really slept, and not the one-to-two hour catnaps she takes occasionally. He kept her in a lavish suite of her own on one of the office levels of the tower. Ironically, he had her sandwiched between two of the resident Avengers' suites - Natasha's and Clint's. Wouldn't you figure. He attributed part of her insomnia to this fact, as Clint and Natasha were notorious for prowling at all hours of the night. But they'd been doing it their whole lives; he distinctly remembers Emily having slept a somewhat normal schedule when she started living there a few months back. _Right_? Regardless, she still performed all of her duties with a timely efficiency reminiscent of his previous assistants - one of which he now fought crime with, and one who now held his entire company in her small yet capable hands.

He finds himself grateful to know so many hard working redheads and wonders dimly if their hair color has anything to do with genes, or passing traits. He makes a mental note to bring it up to Bruce later.

"Emily. Did your parents have red hair, too, or...?"

"I dye my hair, Tony. You know that."

"Right," Tony responds. "I, uh... knew that. Yeah." He chooses to ignore her eyes rolling. So, he _wouldn't_ bring it up to Bruce, then. Darn. Instead, he focuses his growing impatience on Fury. "Nicholas, when is this meeting gunna _start_? I wanna go play with Banner now. Precious science time is _tick_-_tick-ticking_ away."

Fury sighs, but it sounds more like a growl. He rubs his temple. "Shut it, Stark. We're waiting."

It dawns on Tony then that Thor has been missing. _Huh_. He'd been there the day before, and even ate dinner with them. He studies Clint and Natasha with a bit more scrutiny. Tasha looks pretty much as she always does, but this time he notices tiny hints to her true mood. The skin around her eyes seems tight, and her jaw, too. Clint, on the other hand, is a portrait of discomfort. He seems as though he might snap in half, and a thin sheen of sweat decorated his forehead. He could practically hear the tension in his hands, which kept clenching and releasing on the desk top. And now, he notices Natasha's sidelong glances at Clint. 'Glance' was a poor choice of verb - it was more like she was peeking at him, every minute or so, making sure he didn't pop. Their hands almost brush together, and he watches as her little finger reaches out to stroke Clint's. Tony doesn't like the slow lick of unease rising in his gut.

"Hey, Hunger Games, you okay?"

Clint flinches and blinks stupidly in return before nodding. _Jesus_. Tony squirms in his seat. "You're not lookin' too hot," he presses. He doesn't even really want to know anymore, because seeing Clint in this state is, frankly, disturbing. But as in every awkward or otherwise unfavorable situation in his life, Tony Stark cannot for the life of him shut his mouth. "Sure you're fine?"

Clint glares arrows at him and Natasha watches quietly, though Tony can feel the heat of her anger. "Give him a break, Tony," Emily whispers. Her voice is small, and he doubts anyone else heard her. He wonders if he's the only one _not_ in the loop. It only serves to fuel his ceaseless tongue. "What am I _missing_ here? What's going on?" he asks. His voice sounds loud in the room.

"Tony," Bruce interjects. "Nobody knows what's going on. We're all kinda nervous right now. Okay?" And his voice is so soothing, it's what Tony needs to take it down a notch. Sweat tickles the fine hairs at his temple and he laughs a little to break up his own tension.

"Wow, little hot in here."

"Nah, that's just me," Emily jokes. She winks at Tony and there's a relieved titter that travels through the lot of them at her dumb joke. Once again he's grateful for his assistant.

* * *

"I haven't the slightest idea as to _why_ this is the grand plan. As if this will absolve me, clean my slate and restore me to my former... glory."

"You'd do well to watch your tongue. It is a sensible and fair proposition - dare I say it, _beyond_ fair. Everything could have been much worse."

"Do you think this is not the _worst possible situation_ I could be in? Do you not think I'd rather be beaten in a dungeon by daft brutes such as yourself, than to be in this tower?"

Thor sighs heavily and claps a large hand on his brother's shoulder. Loki eyes it with disgust and jerks away from the touch. "Do not be so dramatic, Loki. You should be weeping with gratitude at the Allfather's feet for his show of mercy upon you."

"Yes, _oh Golden One_, surely you can relate to my situation enough to add your commentary," Loki says snidely. "Please do us both a favor and save it."

They are not alone as they walk briskly through the tower, being accompanied by two of Asgard's most esteemed prison guards. Thor feels waves of uncertainty, and his nerves aren't at their best. But he knows that they _must try_ to propose the Allfather's plan, in order to save Loki. He glances at his sibling, mouth drawn at the corners in conceit and irritation. His hair is much longer, still curling out at the ends like a black tide. The sharpness in his cheeks is slightly more pronounced, making him simultaneously weaker looking and more intimidating. The storm of Loki's emotions is clear in the line of his jaw, and Thor looks away guiltily. He wonders, as he has countless times, if things could have been different. If only he'd paid a little more attention to Loki. He would willingly go back to his coronation ceremony and beg the Allfather to change his mind, had he known how it affected Loki. He is ashamed of his proud blindness, too busy being dazzled by the light of his own glory. Never did he mean to leave Loki in the shadows.

They approach the door to the conference room. There is a pause, and the brothers look at each other uncertainly. "Loki," Thor says. "I..." He trails off, the words he desperately wants to say remaining in the back of his mind, jumbled and hidden. Loki sneers and faces the door.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" he interrupts. Thor casts his gaze shamefully to the floor and nods.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Peace Treaty.  
**

Six months after the attack on New York, Asgard comes to Earth with an unusual offer regarding a peace treaty. The treaty itself is much more than an alliance between worlds, and involves the repentance of a certain Norse god. Rating for language, eventual goodies, and possible violence. Involves an OC.

I'm hoping to be able to update fairly often, but since my life is a little chaotic as of late, no promises. As always, I humbly request your reviews. Enjoy.

* * *

There is an electric, static-like feeling in the air. Emily notices that the only truly calm person in the room is Bruce. He sits there quietly, hands folded on the table top, as Tony rattles conversational topics past him. He nods and smiles politely, and she guesses that it's probably something he's used to by now. She sure is. His impatient huffing and wiggling barely registers; he simply can't take surprises. Seeing Clint as sweaty and uncomfortable as he was is like seeing a river run backwards. Although he remains catatonically silent, he has stopped making an effort not to look panicked. It's clear on his face. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was experiencing some kind of excruciating pain. Natasha keeps tossing him sympathetic glances and covers his hand with her own.

When she first started working for Tony, the two things she heard the most were the usual "Congratulations!" and "Good luck". She'd known - as anyone that regularly watches the media - that Tony was a spoiled brat. But it was one thing to simply _know_, and another entirely to experience. Tony did not like to work. Or listen. Or be sober. It only took a little over a week of intense assisting to become used to his foul moods and even fouler habits. She knows now that along with an unending supply of patience, a quick tongue doesn't hurt. Tony enjoys banter, and unwinds easily if given the chance to bicker a little. And she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good being able to sass her employer at will, just to have him laugh and fire back at her. Or give her a raise.

Steve is reluctantly allowing Tony to pick on him ("_Do you ever wear clothes that fit you? If it's not your stars-n-stripes spandex, it's a shirt three sizes too small. Compensating much?_") when the doors slide open. Though soft, the _hush_ sound is jarring. Thor enters with three other men, two of them which Emily doesn't recognize. They are dressed to the nines as far as Asgardian armor goes (judging only by what she'd seen Thor wear), and wore matching stony expressions. Standing maybe an inch above Thor - and several above the rest - is Loki. She recognizes him instantly from the news footage and many documents she's had to sift through. He is long, lean and intimidating, and devastatingly handsome. Emily stands and approaches the men, returning Thor's uneasy smile. "Welcome, er... gentlemen," she says, eyeing Loki. He towers over her indifferently. "Can I get anyone anything?"

"No, thank you, Lady Emily," Thor responds. Loki glances from Thor to Emily and fixes her with a critical glare. "Are all servants on Midgard permitted to stand, instead of kneel?"

Before Emily can say anything, Clint shoots up from his seat with a growl. "Catch me up later. I can't be here," he says to Fury. The Director nods and Clint nearly sprints for the door.

"My helpful bird. How good it is to see you again," Loki purrs. He offers a smile while Clint glares at him.

"_Fuck you, Loki._" And then he's gone. Natasha stares at Loki as if she is killing him with her mind, and interrupts only to glance wistfully at the door. Emily freezes underneath the tension, and for a long moment nobody says anything.

Loki regards Emily again with a hint of anger. "You remain standing before a god? Remedy this immediately."

Emily gapes at him as if - well. As if he were an alien, she supposes. Which he is. The urge to tell him to _fuck off_ is strong, but she isn't Tony. She's his glorified babysitter, and can't ignore the nagging urge to remain at least somewhat professional. "I..."

"Excuse Little Red, here - she hasn't taken after me quite yet. So I'll do her a favor: um, fuck you? She isn't a _slave_, one, and _two_, aren't you just a psychotic criminal? Yeah. You don't exactly have jurisdiction here." Tony stands and takes her shoulder gently, flashing Loki his most obnoxious, shit-eating grin. He looks between them critically. His eyes remain fixed on Emily, but he addresses Tony.

"I was unaware you'd sired children, Stark."

"Oh. Oh, _no_, no no." He glares at Bruce, who has chuckled at Loki's conclusion. "No, not mine. I'm a little _young_ for that, thanks."

"I'm his assistant," she says impatiently. "He pays me to assist him with whatever he might need. And during my _off_ hours, I'm free from the bonds. So, if you'll have a seat, Mr. Stark is on a tight schedule today. 'Kay?" She smiles tightly and spots Thor biting the insides of his cheeks. Loki raises an elegant eyebrow and sits wordlessly with his brother. Director Fury holds his gloved hands out.

"Gentleman? I understand that you have a sort of proposal?"

Loki straightens up in his seat, as though his posture wasn't near-perfect already. Emily notes the grace of his every move, smooth and calculated and... and now he glances back at her. She can't help but stare like a deer in headlights. Bright, handsome, infuriating ones. Full of green. He smirks and rolls his eyes back to Fury. "Yes," he agrees. "The proposal. Thor, please present the Allfather's brilliant idea, will you?"

Thor bristles visibly at Loki's tone, but takes over nonetheless. His voice is booming. "The Allfather is interested in the making of a peace treaty between our realms. It is a promise to protect you in the case of another attack, such as the Chitauri, and bring about a new understanding of the different realms."

Fury strokes his chin and nodds. "And Loki is involved in what way?"

All eyes in the room seem to flick to the proud god, his head held high and lips still twisted in a clever smirk. Thor shifts his gaze as well, and Loki shrugs. His indifference is almost insulting. "Go on, dear brother. Tell them."

"The Allfather offers you a chance to... closely study Loki's extinct heritage as a Jotun. Loki is to remain on Midgard - under your choice of supervision, and bound from his magic - in order to create a specimen for your most esteemed scientists to study to their discretion."

The room is silent once again as the thought sinks in. Steve gently taps the table. "Wait... specimen? What exactly are we talking about, here?"

Tony and Bruce eye each other, and of course Tony cannot stay silent. "I think he's talking about a hybrid, Spangles." His tone is somewhat strained as the thought settles. "I'll be damned."

"I still don't understand?"

"He means that Loki's going to be a sperm-donor for science," Bruce responds grimly. He buffs the lenses of his glasses on his shirt and replaces them, but only stares at the table.

"They're offering to grow a human-Jotun hybrid for scientific evaluation, Steve. Test tube baby," Natasha offers.

"Good lord," the soldier breathes. He looks up to Fury with a strange expression. "We can't seriously consider this, can we? It's... _immoral_. Completely. It's a _child_, Director.

"We must consider the pros, Captain. I'm sure you agree that we could use Asgard on our side, especially now that we're aware of other threatening beings. I won't even _begin _with what kinds of things we could learn or achieve with Jotun DNA at our disposal. The pros are _innumerable_." He speaks to Steve slowly and gently, as if explaining it to a kid. Steve's face goes a shade paler in the face of these revelations, and keeps his mouth shut.

Bruce squeezes Steve's shoulder. "Hey. We don't know how human and Jotun DNA interact yet; but it's a goldmine of information. We could help millions of people with whatever we find out. There are always casualties in war."

Steve shakes Bruce's hand off with a jerk. "I seem to remember _plenty_ of casualties half a year ago."

"How do we go about this, then?" Tony interjects. Emily can see that his mind is working overtime, prying open every possibility and calculating its benefits. The wheels turn incessantly. "Do we just pluck women off the street? '_Hi, what is your reproductive history, want to donate your eggs_?' How does Big Daddy know we've accepted?" Tony jerks a thumb up toward the ceiling. "Can he... can he see us right now?"

"I'm sure we'll begin some sort of _auditioning_, for lack of a better word. Plenty of screening and careful choosing," Fury responds. Loki gives a small laugh and strokes the surface of the desk with one long finger. "On the contrary, Director, I have been given the ability to choose my mate."

Muscles tighten and shift below the skin of Fury's cheeks. One could easily mistake it for _chewing_, as Loki's words sink in. "I suppose that's fair. You may view each candidate during the interview process. Then, we'll combine the donations and wait for a viable product."

Loki shakes out his hair, and it reminds Emily of a feline. "I refuse to _donate_."

"Oh, for _Chrissakes_," Tony grumbles. Loki catches his eye and smiles.

"Without your cooperation, there are no studies." Fury sounds dangerous.

"You have my cooperation, Director. However, I refuse to donate my _gift_." Loki says the word '_gift_' in such a way that Emily can feel heat in her face. "I will deliver it myself, personally, to whomever I choose to be fit. As it comes naturally."

It is a long, uncomfortable moment before Fury sets his jaw and nods once. "Fine."

* * *

The rest of the meeting is a discussion - and debate - over Loki's involvement in the treaty. Steve is vehemently against the idea, and points out several times that Clint would feel exactly the same way. The rest are more accepting of the treaty and its invaluable scientific data and position of relative safety under the Asgardians. Loki's part seems an insignificant trade in the face of everything else, and Steve still hasn't made peace with the thought.

At the end of it all, Thor announces that he'll also be here for the stay. "Heimdall has seen us, and will report to the Allfather hastily. There is no need for us to depart; only a need to find Loki living quarters."

"He'll stay with Emily in her suite. There's sufficient space for two people and she'll be able to keep an eye on him."

"Sir?" Emily asks, shooting Loki a glare, "I don't remember being asked? And I'm really, _really_ full-time with Tony, I mean the sheer _maintenance_ -"

"Maintenance? I'm not a _car_ -"

"- of a guy like him is insane. I can't possibly juggle that much."

She can't tell if Fury is annoyed or just finished with the entire ordeal. "We're keeping a lid on the specifics of this treaty for a bit. For obvious reasons, we can't release Loki to a member of the Avengers. If you can keep up so well with Stark, I don't doubt your ability to handle this. You'll be on a brief hiatus from working for Tony while you work for us. And Tony," he continues, turning to face the billionaire, "we will be assigning a temporary assistant for you in the meantime."

"Okay." Tony sits forward and rests his face in his hands. "No. I don't accept. I need Emily."

"Part time," she all but pleads. "Part time work, part time watch. There's no reason for him to just wander free, right? Lock him in my apartment while I'm working. There's food, and books, a TV. And JARVIS. He'll live."

At the mention of Loki being locked up, the corners of Fury's lips twitch upwards. "So be it. He's all yours - please show him his quarters and get back to Tony."

Emily ignores the steel ball of dread knocking around her stomach as she looks up at the god. He tilts his head as he regards her. "Lead me, sweetling," he murmurs, gesturing at the door. She rolls her eyes against his teasing tone and the way it makes her cheeks flare up with heat again. "Nervous?" he presses. She marches without turning her head to him and huffs. "Not a bit. I'd ask you to remain silent til we reached the suite. Thank you for your cooperation."

His smirk is immediately replaced with a frown, and his eyes snap at her like fire. She's not sure why the sudden change in mood, but she finds that a fuming Loki is preferable to a chatty one.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Peace Treaty.  
**

Six months after the attack on New York, Asgard comes to Earth with an unusual offer regarding a peace treaty. The treaty itself is much more than an alliance between worlds, and involves the repentance of a certain Norse god. Rating for language, eventual goodies, and possible violence. Involves an OC.

SO. It was pointed out to me that the Jotuns aren't actually extinct. I completely blanked on that fact. But I'm going to leave it as is; so, from now on, yes, Jotunheim has been completely annihilated. A big thank you to all the followers and comment givers and favoriters! It's encouraging!

* * *

For knowing the entire building inside and out - and much of the surrounding area - Clint doesn't have many places he goes when it gets to be too much. It only takes one guess for Natasha to find him on the roof of the tower, a knee pulled up to his chest and the other leg dangling from the edge. Under normal circumstances, involving a normal person, this position would be alarming. For Clint, it's second nature. It's comforting. Natasha can practically feel the tension beneath his skin, buzzing and charging him with unwanted adrenaline.

"How'd the meeting go?" He sounds normal, but her trained ears hear the uneasiness.

"Pretty much as expected."

"Pretty much?"

"Loki gets to choose his mate, and deliver the sample _right up in her_." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "And, he's staying in the tower up to six months."

Clint pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. "Inside the tower, huh."

"With Stark's assistant. She looked none too pleased."

"Who _would_ be?"

A comfortable silence unfolds between them, and Natasha idly strokes his fingers with her own. He's glad for the touch and the company. The sky is deepening into night, and the city beneath them hums and glitters into the distance. Clint digests their conversation a little more and allows the cooling air to clear his head. He could always think better up in a perch. There's something comforting about being able to have everything spread before you. There are no surprises when you're on top. His body feels light and he concentrates on relaxing. He cranes his neck and watches stars twinkle into view.

"Head always up in the clouds, Hawk."

"We can't all be arachnids, Nat."

Natasha rolls her eyes and leans her head on Clint's shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?"

There is so much more in her question that what it initially poses. Clint knows the other meanings right away: _W__ill you still have nightmares? Will I still need to come check up on you at night? Are you going to stop eating like you did after? _He practically hears her flipping through the memories of the first several weeks post-attack. Thinking of the nightmares makes him shudder. She strokes his arm and he manages an out-of-place laugh. "Well, I _think_ so, I mean..." His pause lasts a long time before he sighs a little. "I hope so."

* * *

Darcy pulls on a long, dark curl as she thinks. "Okay. I got one. Bruce, or Clint?"

"_Ugh_, Bruce. For sure Bruce." Emily feigns a shudder. "I wanna feel him Hulk out. Right in the middle of it." Darcy slaps her playfully on the arm.

"You're so gross! But I guess I agree. Or, wait - no. Clint's biceps are calling me."

"They are nice. But I live dangerously. I need that Hulk."

"Yeah, I bet. Okay. Tony or Steve?"

"I'm not touching that one."

Darcy sighs and flutters her eyelashes at Emily. "I'd touch them _both_."

Emily laughs and reclines in her chair a bit. Being in the lab where Darcy and Jane work (and occasionally Selvig, but he had his own lab close by) was a relief. Darcy is the closest thing Emily has to a best friend, and Jane the closest thing to an older sibling. She likes hanging around the lab on her lunches or when she has a little time off, because it sort of feels like being home. She secretly likes it when Jane scolds them for being disgusting, or too loud, or too off-task. In this instance, Jane seems to not hear anything through whatever she's working on.

Darcy glances at the occupied Jane and lowers her voice. "Okay, Thor or Loki."

"Darcy, are you saying you want Thor to nail you?"

"_Shh!_"

"You totally want his Mjolnir."

"Oh my God," Darcy laughs, a lovely pink flush working up from her neck to her ears. "Shut up, okay? Answer!"

Emily leans forward. "Okay, seriously? Loki."

"What? I'm... _well_. I'm not super surprised. How's living with him?"

"He keeps to himself, thankfully. Whenever he's around, he just acts like a huge dick."

"Dude. That blows."

"You're telling me. He seems to get off on annoying the shit out of me. But he's so _hot_. I hate him."

Darcy raises her eyebrows. "Whoa."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes I just want to tie him to my bed and ride off into the sunset. When I don't want to kill him, which is roughly about ninety-percent of the time."

Both of the girls flinch at the sound of soft chuckling. Two wide pairs of eyes meet the gaze of one very green, very amused pair. "Ninety percent? That's quite a lot of your time, my enamored little keeper."

Emily can't prevent the flush creeping into her own face. It infuriates her. "What do you want, Loki?" She wonders how long he'd been listening. _Hopefully not long_. But it's obvious by the cheeky half-smile that he has heard enough.

"I grow restless. I wish to go out of the tower."

"No. You're bound to the tower."

Loki glides into the room like smoke and strokes her shoulder with his knuckle. "I'm sure you can keep me in line."

Emily jerks away from his touch. "_Stop that_. And no, I can't. I've got strict orders that we both need to follow."

"What if I promise to hold your hand?" He smirks at the mortified look on her face. "Come now, I will not bite."

Emily pushes her chair back into Loki and stands up, sighing. "Looks like I'm back on baby-sitting duty, Darc. See you later."

"Yeah," Darcy calls out. "Nice talk." The look Emily shoots back at her friend is enough to make her laugh. At the last second, Emily smiles. She walks silently along the corridors with Loki, hoping that he'll let whatever he heard rest. She can't be blamed for finding him attractive; it didn't mean she didn't _hate_ him. Because she _does._ Loki hissed out commands and left messes around her apartment. He complained, and jabbed, and teased. Pleasant moments with Loki involved silence.

They enter the apartment and she strays into the kitchen, rummaging around the cupboards. "Suppose I should feed you," she mumbles. She turns to call out to Loki and it dies on her tongue as she finds herself inches away from his towering figure. "Holy shit," she breathes. "You can't sneak up on me like that."

He eyes her for a long, awkward moment. For once, he seems unreadable. So far, he'd only seemed to function on two levels: mind-numbingly sarcastic and pompous. "What were you talking about with the Lewis girl?"

"Excuse me?"

His smile is incredible. She hates it. "Something about being tied to a bed and ridden like a mare?"

"I didn't say anything about mares."

Loki laughs. "But the sentiment remains the same, does it not?" His demeanor relaxes and he leans against a counter top. Emily shrugs and turns to shut the cupboard doors, glad to focus on something other than his eyes. Or jawline. Or the way he licks his lips when he talks. She makes a mental note to take her problem to the shower-head later in the night. "How about you ignore whatever I may or may not have said and decide on what you might want to eat?"

"I see I've flustered you."

Emily is glad for the surge of annoyance. "You don't have any effect on me, Loki, so give it a rest. I like to relax when I'm home, so..."

"I'd be glad to help you release your tension."

The desire rears its desperate head deep in the put of Emily's belly. For a moment, she's frozen in place, gripping the counter and staring down into the kitchen sink. The combination of anger and heat is scrambling her thoughts, and focusing on _not_ focusing on Loki is an endless frustrating thought loop. His fingers dance across her shoulders and he grasps them, rolling the pads of his thumbs into her tense flesh. "You know," he all but whispers, "In Asgard, they often referred to me as _silver-tongued._"

_Shit_. "Loki..."

"Yes, darling?"

She reigns it all in and shrugs his hands from her shoulders. As she turns, there is a split second of _noticing_. She notices the hotness of his breath, and the way his lips are parted. The look in his eyes reminds her of a predator in the absolute best of ways. He is slightly bowed toward her, and she still has to tilt her head up to properly meet his gaze. Despite it all, she slips comfortably into alpha mode and smirks at him. "You _wish_," she scoffs, leaving the kitchen. All the way out the door, she is channeling her 'Inner Tony'. It's what she did when she felt cornered, or intimidated, or confused. Tony was her rock, in that way, and she decided now was an opportune time to see if he needed anything.

Loki watches her exit the apartment feeling slightly disappointed. He hadn't expected her to decline; but it _did_ makes things more fun. He doesn't particularly enjoy living with her, and finds her stiffness irritating. But the state of things around Stark's tower was dreadfully boring. In Asgard, he at least had his royal status to depend on, and although his magic had been restricted, he was still able to roam freely and perform small acts of magic. He opens up the cupboard that Emily had pretended to look into - she really was _horrible_ at lying, the poor thing - and scans the various items inside. There are many boxes, and packages, and although Loki can read the labels, he isn't sure what most of it really is. He finds himself again disgusted with Midgardian lifestyle and their inferiority.

* * *

Tony stares at Pepper's gorgeous hair. "Honey, you - _ooh, _uh, you have the nicest hai_ooohh god_," he moans. Pepper raises her head and her lips make a wet _pop_ sound. "Thank you, Tony," she giggles. He bites his lip as her tongue traces around his sensitive head, purpled with delicious pressure. She sucks teasingly, sliding her lips over and over the head and head only, circling the base of his cock firmly with her finger and thumb. When she sinks him deeper into her mouth, his toes curl.

"_Un-fucking-believable_," he growls, gripping the arms of his chair. In the silence of the empty conference room, he could appreciate all those wonderful sounds her mouth makes. She hums against him and his hips jerk forward. It pulls a long, tortured moan from him, and he slaps the arm of the chair.

"_Sir, your assistant is -_"

"Save it, JARVIS, for the love of _god_!"

"_Apologies, sir._"

Pepper lifts her head again and Tony whines. "What are you doing?"

"Sounds like work's a-callin'," Pepper responds.

"Are you - are you _serious_?"

She eyes Tony's erection with a grin that makes him throb. "Poor boy. Okay. I'll make it easy on you." She resumes with gusto, and Tony makes an effort to reduce the wails building in his throat to pitiful whimpers and groans. Her lips, tongue and fingers produce stars behind his eyelids. "I'm gunna," he murmurs, white-knuckling the chair. "_Fuck_." The coil of heat and pressure explodes, and he makes a valiant effort not to thrust into her throat. Pepper is thorough and even graceful as she pops cleanly up from his body and licks her lips. Her smile is one of the most beautiful things Tony has ever seen, and he's reluctant to attribute that to his post-orgasmic bliss. She actually resembles an angel. His heart skips a beat as he thinks of how lost he'd be without her. "Pepper, I fucking love you," he says.

She laughs and rises from her knees, brushing them off. "Yeah, yeah," she teases.

"I mean it. You are the most important thing in the world."

"Oh, Tony," she laughs, pecking him on the cheek. "You get up there. She's probably waiting."

"JARVIS, where's Em?"

"_Sir, she is inside the penthouse, waiting for you._"

Pepper gives Tony a look that says, _Told you._ He rolls his eyes and stands, pulling his clothes back on. "Okay. But I've got plans for you later, little lady. Be prepared."

When Tony arrives to the penthouse, Emily stands and claps her hands together. "Tony," she says. "Please give me a task. Do you need anything? Do I need to grab take-out? Maybe you have dry cleaning?"

"Are you _asking_ for work?" Tony crosses his arms and watches her with a raised eyebrow. "You feelin' okay?"

"Yes, it's just... Loki's driving me insane, and I want a reason to be away from him."

"_Ah_. Yes, I see your point..." He pauses for a long moment to wander to the bar and pour himself a scotch. The sound of the ice clinking against the glass is almost relaxing. "Well, you could... yeah, you should pick up a bunch of shawarma. Avengers lunch. Pick something out for Loki, but he can't eat with us."

"No. Tony, _every time_ you order shawarma, you and Thor end up eating all of it by yourselves. Nobody likes the shawarma. Get some Thai food, or something. Indian. Been a while, and Bruce loves Indian food."

Tony half-smiles into his glass. In a few short months, Emily has become accustomed to not only Tony's tastes, but his fellow Avengers'. He likes that. As to whether it can be attributed to his constantly over-working her or just her becoming 'part of the family', so to speak, he's not sure. And anyway, she _likes_ the work. Clearly. You can't be overworked doing something you like. Right?

"Oh. Well, yeah, grab a bunch of Indian food. Get something that'll set Loki's intestines on fire. I wanna see the fucker squirm. Of course, _again_, not in person. I'll just watch from a cam."

The drive to order the food is totally and wonderfully silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Peace Treaty.  
**

Six months after the attack on New York, Asgard comes to Earth with an unusual offer regarding a peace treaty. The treaty itself is much more than an alliance between worlds, and involves the repentance of a certain Norse god. Rating for language, eventual goodies, and possible violence. Involves an OC.

Excuse my absence. I've been dealing with some shit and blah blah blah, here I am. Song in the beginning is "Make It Wit Chu" by Queens Of The Stone Age. Your reviews are encouraged and mighty appreciated. _There be some smut ahead._

* * *

"_You wanna know if I know why, I can't say that I do_."

Emily's voice is by no means great, but Loki finds himself slightly relieved that she can at least carry the tune. She's in her bedroom doing who knows what, and he then notices the warm, slightly obnoxious smell permeating the apartment. She couldn't have set something on fire, could she? It would smell sharper. As he idly turns ideas about in his mind, she floats into the kitchen, mumbling more of the song to herself.

"_Don't understand the you or I, or how one becomes two._"

There are chance occasions, much like this one, in which he finds her in a pleasant mood. She always sings to herself, whether music is playing or not. Frankly, he finds it irritating. But he is a god, and within him lies an immeasurable amount of patience. Patience borne of centuries of trickery and sneaking about. Her cheeks wear an attractive blush during these times, when she laughs easily and is constantly nibbling on things from the cupboard. He almost finds her charming - _well_. Charming enough to tolerate. She is immune to his attempts at aggravating her; it only makes her laugh.

"What is that vile smell?"

Emily grins and shrugs. "I don't know."

"It is painfully obvious that you _do_." He glides closer to her and leans down to examine her. "Are you intoxicated?"

"No." She laughs. "Well, _kind_ of. I guess."

Loki sniffs and rolls his eyes. She turns to root through the cupboard once more, occasionally selecting a box just to examine it and put it back. He stands directly behind her a moment longer, at a loss for what to do. It irks him that she isn't annoyed, or angry. It's so _boring._ He couldn't very well chase after the Avengers themselves and bother them. He was mischievous, but not an idiot.

Emily grunts softly as she stretches an arm to a high shelf, grabbing at a tin just out of her reach. She gasps a little when his hands ghost the curve of her waist and slide down to her hips. He lifts her easily and she snatches the tin. The look on her face when he lets her down is delicious - surprised and slightly uncomfortable. It's the shock of his touch, and the fact that her eyes are on his mouth as she twists around to glance at him. "Thanks," she mumbles. The look is only for a second, but he manages to slide an innocent, pink tongue along his upper lip. Just a swipe, but he can tell by the ever-so-slight widening of her pupils that she has noticed. "Thanks," she repeats, now watching the floor. He revels in the awkward quickness of her gait as she scurries from the apartment.

* * *

It's cliche, really, how many punching bags are worn and resting, split-seamed and used up, against the wall opposite Steve. Contrary to rumor, he does in fact get tired while training. It just takes a little more. Okay, a _lot_ more. He pounds another bag into submission. He enjoys the sound each bag makes as it's flung from within his reach to the opposite wall. A layer of sweat soaks him. He'd long before removed his shirt, but now he sees the dark blotches where sweat has soaked through the waistband of his sweats, and how it sort of burns his eyes a little. Time to pack it in.

After a shower and a bit of cleaning up, he feels better. He can't get the Loki situation out of his mind. The thought of some poor, strange child spending its life as SHIELD's plaything. It makes him sick to his stomach. He imagines what things they'd do - would the child experience the same agony he had taking the serum? When all the experimenting for the day was through, where did it go? He had no doubts about Loki's lack of interest in his offspring's welfare, which Steve found unsurprising given the stories he'd heard from Thor. Loki's own father abandoned him and the repercussions were great.

He'd trained to release some of the anger, but now it reared its ugly head and he is sick with doubt again. He finds Bruce in one of the labs, thankfully sans Tony. The doctor removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Bad time?"

"No, no." Bruce dismisses the notion with the wave of a hand. "Come in. I'm going nuts trying figuring out this... thing. I could use a distraction."

Steve is thankful for the invite and even more thankful that Bruce didn't attempt to explain whatever he was doing. "Well, frankly, I feel like _I'm_ going nuts. I can't get this treaty out of my head."

Bruce balances precariously on the rear legs of his seat, a habit he accidentally picked up from Tony. "Well," he starts slowly, "it will be nice to have Asgard on our side. And Loki will be gone forever in a few months, hopefully. That's good."

They both know where the conversation is leading. Bruce isn't looking forward to it. Steve takes the back of a chair in his strong hands and grips it. "It just doesn't sit right with me. I can't stop thinking about the _child_. A kid needs parents."

Bruce can't help the flare of annoyance rising up his spine. "Did you want to pass that memo along to Natasha? Sure she'd appreciate it."

"That's not even - and, I mean, she _kills_ people for a living."

"Natasha Romanov is one of the strongest and most capable people I have ever met, if not _the_ most."

"I didn't mean anything by -"

"Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made, Steve. It sucks. A _lot_, I know. But - we _need_ Loki out of here. We _need_ the defense of Asgard. And we _need_ to see if this hybrid child can potentially help the entire planet. We have so many possibilities for medicine, for science, for _everything_. You need to let it go, because it's happening."

Steve sets his jaw as Bruce stares at him. Several long, tense moments pass before Steve realizes that his fingers have torn through the fabric backing of the computer chair he's gripping. He uncurls his fists from it and shakes his fingers out, grimacing at the damage. "You know," he starts, "I thought you'd understand a little better. That people like us -"

"People like us?" Bruce removes his glasses and they clatter on the desktop. "You and I volunteered for this, Steve. You decided to swallow a bunch of serum. I decided to mess with a potentially life-threatening project. We both made that leap, and although it comes with its... _challenges_, I'd say we're a lot better off than if we were roaming around in the general public. SHIELD aren't bad guys. Yes, they'll do some testing and studying. But they'll take care of it."

"I can't consent to this."

Bruce sighs and rubs his eyes. Steve's stubbornness pulls at his frayed nerves. "Well, Cap, majority ruled. Not that it was our decision to make; it was Fury's. So I'm sorry to hear that."

"Me, too," the Captain sighs, taking his leave. Bruce watches the empty doorway for a moment before returning to his work. It's a pesky set of equations he's working on, and in light of recent events, it's a little hard to focus. Before he can really try to dig in again, a sharp rap against one of the glass walls jars him. Tony strolls in with a bag of chips, crunching loudly and gesturing at the hall with a jerk of the head. "What's up with Spangles? Lovers' spat?"

"Something like that."

Tony shakes his head in disapproval and stands before Bruce's desk. "What's he got that I don't? He might be pretty, but I'm prettier. And not a virgin."

"You know me, Tony. I like them sassy."

"Yes, you do. I'm going to do you so hard later."

"The Other Guy would love that."

"I don't do threesomes. Who am I kidding, yes I do. Did. Whatever, what are you doing? And was Steve bitching about the damned treaty again?"

"Equations. And yes, he was. I think he's mad at me."

Tony cranes his neck and glances at the equations before scooting next to Bruce and tapping some keys. Bruce lets out a low whistle as numbers and variables are relocated and changed. Tony smirks at the improvements and nods. "Yep. There you go, friend," he says, slapping Bruce's shoulder. The doctor rubs his eyes and saves the progress.

"I need some sleep. That just... I should've gotten those on my own. What the hell."

"We all have down days, Banner." His voice rings loudly from across the room, where he pulls up screens featuring diagrams of his suit. "Go take a catnap and then come back to me."

"Feeling needy?"

"Yes. Pepper's gone and my assistant is getting stoned with Darcy. Not that I need her today. It's been a really uneventful one."

"Getting stoned, huh. You know how to pick 'em."

"Hey, now, a little green never hurt anyone." Tony laughs at himself. "Well, unless you're _you_. But you get what I mean. Now, hurry up. The faster you nap, the faster I get to correct more of your mistakes."

"Screw you, Stark."

"You know I'd let you, buddy."

* * *

Emily has long stopped trying to pay attention to the TV. The light and background noise is agreeable, but it's hard for her to really focus through the haze of absolute exhaustion.

Three days without sleep, and not for the lack of trying. Visiting with Darcy and smoking had been enjoyable, and relaxing, but now her bones buzzed with discomfort. Her eyes burn. Groaning, she reaches across the table and snatches a half-smoked joint. As she starts it up, she wanders aimlessly around the apartment. The door to Loki's room is shut. She imagines he must be sleeping, or reading, reclining on the bed. Perhaps without a shirt on. Perhaps naked. She inhales deeply and pictures the smooth planes of his body in contrast to the sharpness of his jaw, of his hipbones. The delicate ropes of vein snaking color across his pale, strong arms. The elegantly long fingers.

She paces back and forth along the kitchen tile and shoots glances at Loki's door. Her coughs ring out in the kitchen as she flakes the last of the joint into the garbage can. A foggy, pleasant high creeps up her belly and warms her cheeks. It does nothing to help her burning eyes, but she feels relaxed and dreamy. And brave.

The short walk to Loki's door is easy; gathering the courage to knock isn't. Her fist hovers before the door and she doubts herself. _Shit_. _Shit shit. Stupid._ In the middle of her thoughts, she can hear a light rustle. Holding her breath, she waits to hear more. Her patience is rewarded by a soft cough. He's awake. Courage floods her spine and she forgoes the knock in favor of walking right in. To her delight, it's unlocked, and a lamp is on inside. His chest is bare, and more magnificent than she imagined.

"It seems you had trouble deciding," he says lightly. High spots of color stain her cheekbones, but she is otherwise silent. Loki regards her with an impatient sigh and rises gracefully from bed. His pajama pants look like they are made from some fine Asgardian fabric, the color a deep green. The way they ride low on his hips makes her stomach flip. He stops inches away and tilts his head as he stares down at her. "Well? What is it?"

"I can't sleep."

She hates the way her voice comes out weak and breathless. Anticipation prickles her nerves out of nowhere. She hates the way Loki smirks at her. "So you cannot." He unsubtly eyes her body and returns his gaze to her eyes with surprising intensity. "And how does that concern me, pet?"

"I thought you might know a way to tire me out." She's surprised at her own boldness.

"You are intoxicated."

"You aren't saying no."

Her desire is overwhelming. She feels a slight tremor in her fingertips, her thighs. She could feel Loki's body heat. She reaches out, tentatively, her eyes on his as her fingers breach the space between them and flutter up his chest. He grabs her wrist and the look on his face is unreadable. For a heart-stopping minute, it seems clear that Loki might reject her. Adrenaline shoots through to mingle with her desire. She's tired, and frankly, _desperate_. So it seems like a brilliant idea to bounce up on the balls of her feet and catch the god's lips with her own.

It's like a switch goes off then, and Loki is growling into her mouth, tongue stroking hers and teeth nipping her lip. He turns her and tips her chin up, dragging his tongue along her jaw. "I didn't think it would be this easy. But you burn for me after all, _mortal_." Emily reaches behind and holds on to his neck, craning her own so that he can shower it with kisses and love-bites. He bites particularly hard and her knees wobble.

Her keening and gasping is embarrassing. His hands seem to be everywhere at once, fingers stroking and pinching their way underneath her shirt and dancing over her chest, her stomach. Loki doesn't seem to mind as he grinds his arousal against her ass. In a surprisingly smooth motion, he flings her onto his bed and crawls over her. He looks like he wants to consume her. Emily can't discern whether she's more afraid of him or more turned on. He hooks two fingers into the waistband of her pajamas and licks his lips.

"_Loki_."

"Yes," he growls. "More like that." He rubs and pressed teasingly between her legs, her underwear still on, bottoms having been forcefully removed. Her face is red and she turns away from him as she grinds against his knuckles. A whine leaves her throat as he pulls away and sits on his heels. He pulls off his bottoms and his cock is freed, pulsing and very much god-like. His naked body is a thing of beauty, and she idly wonders how many, _many_ women he must have bedded. He slides a hand underneath her head and cradles her neck. He straddles her shoulders and shudders as he thumbs the head of his cock, angling it at her lips. "Now, my little whore, worship your god."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Peace Treaty.  
**

Six months after the attack on New York, Asgard comes to Earth with an unusual offer regarding a peace treaty. The treaty itself is much more than an alliance between worlds, and involves the repentance of a certain Norse god. Rating for language, eventual goodies, and possible violence. Involves an OC.

_Reviews appreciated! _:) Mostly smut ahead, because, why not.

* * *

It did not take long for the mortal to come to him.

He knew that it wouldn't. He knew all too well his effect on the fairer sex, and had used it to his advantage countless thousands of times. It came with the territory of being Odin's "offspring". He'd enjoyed dalliances with the most eligible and privileged of Asgard, as well as the somewhat forbidden fruits of the peasants. Those were his favorites; he enjoyed peeling away their homely dresses to ravage the wealth of pale flesh beneath him. They were always so enamored and passionate, much unlike the cockiness of the upper class.

So, he knew she'd come. Eventually. As he pored over a book, he thought he could hear her creeping about. The shadows of her feet in the slit of light beneath the doorway gave her away for sure - then it was only a waiting game. He found that he rather liked the way her cheeks lit with heat as she finally entered. She fidgeted and stood stiffly in his room, obviously trying to muster up some courage. That alone had caused his cock to stir.

And now, he coaxed his cock into her mouth. The warm, inviting mouth. He doesn't much care for her, and suspects that her sentiments are the same; but he's glad for the use of her body.

* * *

It isn't the act itself that poses a problem - she rather likes the way his cock tastes, which is strangely of winter. It's the sheer size of him, filling her mouth, pushing back at her throat. She worries over the occasional scrape of teeth, but he seems not to mind as his hips buck. She's thankful for his hand cradling the nape of her neck, tilting her head up in a favorable position. She closes her eyes and focuses on the velvet flesh of the head, the way it feels sliding across her tongue. A too-deep thrust makes her gag, and Loki withdraws from her mouth with some concern.

"Loki, I -"

"Hush, love, you are doing so _well_." He presses insistently against her lips and she offers a little lick.

"And what about me?"

"Demanding little creature, aren't you? Patience reaps rewards. Now take me."

Emily thrills at his tone and wraps her lips around him, taking only the purpled head into her mouth. She lavishes it with soft sucking, much like a candy, and pays special attention to the tight flesh just underneath the slit, licking as if it were the most important task in the world. He responds with a deep groan, and she can feel his cock twitch and throb before he plunges further into the welcoming mouth. It doesn't take long for her to coax his release. His come is surprisingly cool, and she swallows every drop before he pulls out and moves off of her body.

"How would you like me to have you?" he purrs, hips moving to connect with hers. She presses her palms against his chest and scoots back.

"Wait, _whoa_ - first of all, we don't have protection, and -"

"And?"

"And I don't want to birth your freakish alien spawn?"

Loki leans down and scrapes his teeth along her collar bone before sinking into her shoulder. She yelps and writhes up against him. "It would be an honor. A privilege." He emphasizes his words by rolling his hips forward, grinding against her. She keens and pushes harder against him. He allows her to roll him onto his back, and he grabs her hips when she straddles him.

"I'd sooner rip my own uterus out." She climbs further up his body and flattens her palms against the wall for leverage. He looks up at her from between her thighs and licks his lips.

"Would you like me to eat my way there?"

Before she can respond, he laps against her clit. She shudders and arches her spine, and allows him to pull her hips lower for his own convenience. "I would like that," she whispers, and he works at her with the best of his abilities. It only takes a couple of minutes for her to be moaning, and barely another for her to unconsciously rock her hips against Loki's tongue.

He slides a gentle middle finger inside of her, a pleasant test, before adding his index. By the time he is stroking against her sweet spot, she's mewling with her head resting against a forearm, which she presses into the wall before her. It's been such a long time since she'd had somebody do this, and she's sure they weren't _this_ good. She feels herself approach the brink rapidly, and has a bright moment of clarity - she's letting the enemy fuck her with his tongue. _Fuck._ Somehow, _he_ did this. Somehow... right? God, she hates him. So _much._ _So_ -

"I hate you, oh my _God, I fucking hate you_," she groans, lips pulled into a grimace as her muscles begin to clench. Loki scissors his fingers a moment before fucking them against her g-spot. She inhales sharply and nearly screams as his tongue speeds up, and he's fucking _moaning into her oh God -_

_"Loki."_ It comes out as a sob, and her wailing follows as she explodes with the release of pressure, her nerves singing with pleasure. When Loki unceremoniously pushes her to the side, she flops back onto his mattress to catch her breath.

"Hate me that much, do you?"

She opens her eyes and studies his face. He looks normal, though a smirk plays at his lips. "Absolutely," she responds, closing her eyes once more. She feels him trail his fingers along the curve of a hip.

"Then leave my quarters. You've served your purpose."

"I should be saying that to _you_. I'm bushed."

"Bushed?"

"Exhausted."

Loki hums in response, and Emily opens her eyes again and slides off the bed, gathering her clothing and slipping it back on. "Well, uh... thanks," she mumbles, opening his door to leave. He chuckles and she glances back at him in time to see his wide grin.

"If you should decide to _birth my freakish alien spawn_, I'll be waiting."

"Don't count on it."

* * *

Natasha curls a lock of hair behind her ear as she walks through the halls. The hour is late; that she knows. The tower is quiet, but she likes it that way. It's easier to find things in the quiet. This is how she'd ended up in Emily's apartment.

She did this often, having started long before Loki's arrival. Emily's inexperience with working in SHIELD tugged at some strange maternal strings in Natasha. It isn't only Emily - she also routinely checks up on Jane, Darcy, and Steve. It's not that she doubts their ability, but she wants to know for sure that they're safe, and in Emily's case, sleeping. She can always hear the television or music clearly, blaring as though Emily can only rest within chaos.

On this particular night, she'd heard silence. She waited several minutes before gaining clearance into the apartment, and what she heard was very telling, and very in Loki's room.

On her trek to the elevator, she hesitates outside of Clint's room. Her fist automatically rises to rap on the door, or try the knob, but she pulls it back and forces herself to continue. Clint doesn't need to know. Not now. And that makes her feel a twinge of guilt, because she tells Clint virtually everything. This one she would hold back on. So she continued to the elevator and from there to the entry of the penthouse.

"JARVIS?"

"_Yes, Miss Romanoff."_

"Would you let Tony know -"

The penthouse door slides open and Tony has his hands on his hips. He looks slightly irritated as he lets her in. "Um, hi, it's like, three in the morning? Or something? It's late, what do you want?" Natasha shoots him a look and he sighs impatiently. "Can't read minds, Romanoff, use your words."

"Your assistant is fucking Loki."

Tony cocks his head and blinks hard, both eyebrows rising dramatically. "Come again?"

"They're doing _something_."

"And you know this...? How?" Before she can answer, Tony grins and snaps his fingers. "Forget it. I got it. JARVIS? Get Bruce up here and prepare the camera feed from Loki's bedroom. Show us the footage from... _say_... what, 'Tash? An hour ago? Two?"

"No, I just came from there... a half an hour ago would probably do it. You have a camera feed...?"

Tony furrows his brow and stares at her like _she's_ being weird. "Um, yeah?"

"That seems a little much."

"Oh, _I'm_ sorry, I'm only housing a psychotic alien bent on destroying the planet here, you're right, I should be thinking about his _rights_ and _freedoms_."

"You know what I mean, it's just -"

Tony marches up to her and his cheeks are flushed, jaw tight with anger. "He threw me out of my fucking window. He hypnotized Legolas, and _killed Coulson_." He glares for a second before huffing loudly and pinching the bridge of his nose, moving back to his original place in the middle of his living room. "JARVIS, Jesus _Christ_ where is Banner?"

"_Almost there, sir._"

"Good." He waves his hands toward himself. "Now, bring Papa a screen, big boy. Show me that feed."

Natasha moves to stand next to him as one of his transparent screens glides to them, stretching to large proportions before they are treated to the view of Loki's bedroom from a corner of the room. Bruce joins them as Emily entering the bedroom is shown on the feed. "What are we watching? Is this... is that Emily?" Bruce pokes his glasses back up his nose a little and eyes Tony with obvious unease. "Does Pepper know you're watching Emily like this?"

Tony sighs again and glares at Bruce. "No, asshole! It's not like that. God. This is Loki's room."

"Okay." Bruce peers back at the screen as Loki saunters over to her. "Is this happening right now as we speak? Er - watch?"

"No, it's from a while ago."

They watch in relative silence (except Tony - he doesn't really _do_ silent) and the room eventually becomes tense as Emily and Loki remove clothing, and Loki climbs over her. Tony snorts and laughs a little. "He's fucking her mouth. Holy shit." Bruce glances at them, clearly uncomfortable.

"We should turn this off, Tony."

"Aw, come on, guys, it's just - it's..." Tony makes meaningless hand gestures as he tries to form a coherent sentence, and shakes his head when he fails. "Okay. You're right. It's weird. It's like watching my stepdaughter get fucked in the mouth. Okay. Just gunna... fast forward through this a little, just in case..." Bruce backs away with an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, I can't even start to digest this right now. Let me sleep on it. Let's talk in the morning." He pauses in his backward step and regards Natasha. "Anyone else know about this?"

"Just us," she confirms. "Stark, cut it out. We found what we were looking for."

"Yeah, okay. JARVIS, take it away." The screen shimmers and goes out, retracting back into the wall it came from. "Did you see the end? She ended up fucking _him_ in the mouth." When Natasha walks away without comment, Tony calls after her and pouts when she doesn't answer. She exits the penthouse and turns around in time to see him wave sarcastically to her. "Yeah, goodnight to you too, Agent Cold Shoulder. You're probably no fun at parties."

"I look better in a party dress, though."

She smiles to herself as Tony's cackle follows her out the door.

* * *

When Bruce reaches the lab again, Darcy is right where he left her: gazing curiously at his desktop, where information glowed brightly on the built-in screen. But this time, instead of sitting in a seat, she is bent over the desk, completely unaware of him.

He wipes his mouth and thinks, _why not_, she's beautiful. And he takes in the curve of her ass, the gentle slope of her spine, her splayed thighs. He wonders how good it might feel to take her generous hips into his hands and grind against her. Before his pants run the risk of becoming too tight, he clears his throat and walks toward her. She startles a bit and grins at him as she straightens up. The soft blush in her cheeks is almost overwhelmingly attractive, and he can't help but grin back. "Uh, hey. Everything okay with the big guy upstairs?"

"_He's_ not the big guy," he muses. When her eyes narrow, he realizes the innuendo and feels his own face getting hot. "So, um - sorry if it took long. Tony just had to... update me. On a thing."

Darcy snorts. "Eloquent."

"Yeah, well, old men like myself have trouble forming coherent thoughts."

His comment earns him another snort, and Darcy's hand flies to his bicep as he moves next to her. She gives him a little squeeze. "You're hardly old."

He smiles appreciatively and ignores the wave of impulsiveness rushing through his gut.


End file.
